


There's a black cloud above you

by editorius



Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Drug Use, Enjolras is not so saint-like, Homophobia, M/M, Non-Graphic Violence, Past Relationship(s), University, but neither is Grantaire
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-04
Updated: 2017-04-13
Packaged: 2018-09-14 18:28:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 11,677
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9197897
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/editorius/pseuds/editorius
Summary: “Oh?” The young man now seemed more amused. “Exams coming up?”“No, not yet, but we are having these– what the fuck?”“Can’t tell what your studying, but it’s an easy tell that it’s something advanced. Your looks and. The drugs, yeah. “Enjolras studies law, and might occasionally use meth to focus when he studies, but he doesn't like to talk about it. He one day buys from a dealer, who - apart from being a prick but also kind of sweet? - reminds him a lot of Grantaire. Grantaire, whom he used to be together with in high school. Grantaire, whom things went to hell with. Grantaire, whom he hasn't heard of ever since. But this guy makes Enjolras remember everything he thought he didn't care about anymore. Could it be that he has some sort of connection to Grantaire?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is based of a song by a musician I normally hate, but when being exposed to this song, I realized that it was actually pretty good (maybe because it made me think of Grantaire and Enjolras..). 
> 
> I wanted to try and make their relation a bit different, by skipping the whole getting to know each other and pining, and instead focusing on all the bottled up emotions there could be after a relationship has ended. I also thought it would be interesting with an Enjolras who isn't morally perfect, without him being some kind of badass criminal. Just being a bit reckless sometimes. 
> 
> This is my first fic, and I know it has some grammatical errors and spelling mistakes, but I hope you'll bear with me. Hopefully I'll get help to edit it sometime by someone who is better at English than me. 
> 
> I hope you'll enjoy it!

Enjolras closed his laptop, and then carefully listened for sounds in the corridor. It was around 1 in the afternoon on a Saturday, a very not suspicious time to go out, yet he couldn’t be bothered with anyone asking where he was going or if they might join him to the bus. He lived in a big complex for students, and he knew he was far from the only one doing this, but it clashed with his self-image in such a brutal way that he much preferred to keep it secret.

Continuously listening, he put on his shoes and his spring jacket, and then went out into the corridor. Each student had their own room with its own toilet, but they shared a big kitchen in each corridor. Luckily, the kitchen wasn’t on the way between his room and the stairs. But of course, going down the stairs, he met Combeferre coming back from his night/morning shift at the lab.

“Hello to you!” Combeferre said with the energy of someone having their last peak before falling asleep for many hours. “Where are you going in this shitty weather?”

“Just to, nothing special..” Enjolras trailed off. “Well, to buy. I know exams are not in a while still, but we have so many essays right now it’s crazy.” Combeferre’s expression changed to neutral.

“Okay. You know I’m not judging you, but you also know I think it’s really fucking stupid.”

“Yes. Thanks. “ Enjolras agreed, but he also knew that he had it under control. “Hope you’ll sleep well.” 

“I will.” Combeferre said, and his smile was back on. “Really tough shift, it’s gonna be so nice. See you, I hope.”

“Yes. See you. Like all the other times.” 

Combeferre gave him a light nudge as they passed each other in the staircase. He was one of they very few who knew, and was being very chill about it. Enjolras was very glad to have such friends, but he also kept reminding himself that this wasn’t really a problem in the first place. 

He went with the bus for only a few stops, but enough to get into a wholly different area, then walked the ordinary route to the backyard. He thought this was secret enough, and knew that some of the guys around could be trusted. It was a backyard like any other in this neighbourhood; the houses had four floors, had not had their facades painted in many years, and the windows and small balconies were creatively decorated with patterned cloths and sheet-sized flags. In the yard were some odd toys, many cigarette stumps and a some old sofas and armchairs that had been standing there for as long as Enjolras had known, and probably long before that as well. Said armchairs and sofas were occupied by some older men that he recognized, those who seemed to be doing it for no special reason, apart from some extra money. Enjolras preferred those rather than the young sellers, whom he found unreliable. The older ones appreciated Enjolras reappearing, like a safe income. But today they seemed to be busy with an old woman yelling at them, pointing to some children playing in the other end of the yard, and then back at the old men. It looked like it would take a while.

But there was also a young man whom Enjolras had never seen before. He was sitting on an old garden chair in front of a wall, leaning as much on the wall as the chair. He was talking absent-mindedly to two boys, who seemed very proud to have some of his attention. He was definitely the coolest one in the backyard, with black sneakers, black jeans and a black hoodie, unzipped and revealing a, surprisingly enough, black t-shirt with some white print on it. Even his hair was black, curly and loosely tied into a bun. Enjolras started walking towards him, and when he made eye contact with him, the young man made a simple sideways nod with his head, and the two boys sullenly walked away. 

“You sell?” Enjolras had walked all the way up to him before asking. In case not. The young man looked at him with a small, amused smile.

“Yeah? What do you want?”

“Meth. 2 grams.” 

“Oh?” The young man now seemed more amused. “Exams coming up?”

“No, not yet, but we are having these– what the fuck?”

“Can’t tell what your studying, but it’s an easy tell that it’s something advanced. Your looks and. The drugs, yeah. “ 

“Yeah? Do you have it or not?” Fucking prick.

“I do, I do. But c’mon, tell me what you’re studying? It’s not for anything, I promise. Just curious about my customers, you know.” 

“Law.” Enjolras blurted out, like a child who seemed to think that by answering, he had won the argument. Shit. Why did he say it? But the young man seemed even more shocked than him, apparently. He just froze, smile gone. Young man was by the way a very relative description, since the guy looked older than him, maybe by three or four years. He had blue eyes and a little stubble, and he looked like he was about to ask something, but then he didn’t. 

“Hah,” he went with instead, “those are some real double standards, don’t you think?”

“I’ll make it even once I’m done, it’s not like I’m gonna be some stupid fuck trying to get rich.” Enjolras mumbled. The young man looked at him like he was stupid. “Can I buy or not? 2 grams?”

“It’ll be 70 bucks.” He started counting from the small packages he had in his pocket, while Enjolras got the money from his own pockets. As they exchanged their things, Enjolras noticed a small  
scar on the young man’s man. He felt a slight urge to grab the hand and look more closely at the scar, but just like that, the moment was gone. 

“See you around maybe.” Enjolras said.

“Depends on you really.” 

Enjolras made a small nod, then turned and walked away. The two little boys were luring in another part of the yard, looking happily at Enjolras’ departure, meaning that they could go back to the young man. He seemed to really mean something to them. 

On the bus ride back, Enjolras wondered if maybe he’d met this guy before sometime. He had no idea where, and why would they have, but there was something very satisfying about trying to remember, so he kept on. He almost bumped in to someone as he went off the bus, met Combeferre on his way to his corridor but didn’t recognize him until he walked right past him, and was confused for a few seconds when the door didn’t open until he remembered his keys. He was so so close to finding out. He thought the guy had looked like someone from high school, but definitely not from his class. Right as he got into his room and lay down on his bed, he finally got it.

His mind went back to three years from now, it was August and he was starting on his last year in high school. He’d been a member of the socialist group the ABC for about two years, and was finally starting to feel like he belonged somewhere, and that things would get better and better from now on. He’d made a lot of friends and contacts in leftist circles, and now cared less about people glaring at him, and more about right wing extremists putting up stickers at their school. He had many memories from this time, but his mind was pointing him to one specific. It was at a meeting with the ABC, a big one, open for possible new members to check out what kind of group they were. He was there before the meeting officially started, helping to put up chairs and tables. One of the older members had told them that he was especially happy about one guy coming to the meeting, a highschooler who had used to be in another leftist group where violence was as big a part of the agenda as politics. But the older member had managed to talk him into coming to one of their meetings instead, to see that there were actually many things that could be done in a much more legal and efficient way. He told them that he thought the guy had just been in the other group in lack of company and an outlet to his feelings, and that he actually seemed really sweet. 

The guy was called Grantaire, and sat at the front part of his chair for almost the entire meeting. He had seemed genuinely surprised at the things they told about the ABC, how much they’d done since they started, and he’d also seemed really happy. He’d asked questions about the organisation of the group, and talked enthusiastically to the member who’d made him come there in the mid-meeting break. 

Grantaire started coming to their meetings, and contributed with both ideas and energy. He was easily upset about injustices, but also easily calmed down again. He was very good at drawing and designing in a self-taught way, and started making the posters and banners for the group. He blended in just as good as Enjolras had when he had started there, and seemed to be having the same feeling of finally belonging somewhere that Enjolras had had. They were the same age, both being in their last year of high school, and got along really well. Sometimes they hung out after the meetings, just going for a walk, or somewhere they could share a pizza. After a while, they started hanging out before the meetings sometimes as well. They went to schools in different parts of town, so they’d usually meet at one of the bigger stations, and then walk to the meeting. They talked about politics, but also about other things, comparing their schools and teachers. Grantaire’s school had much lesser resources compared to what they needed; Grantaire, for instance, had ADHD but barely got any support for it, always being told that it hadn’t worked with the schedules this time, but next period they would try again. He knew himself that that was why he’d been drawn to political violence, he’d just been so angry all the time, but he’d said it was getting better now. He was going to apply for art schools in the spring. 

Around the end of October, they dropped the ABC meetings as their constant excuse for hanging out, and started meeting whenever they felt like it, usually at least once more per week outside of the meetings. They always met in town since they lived so far from each other, and always had some kind of reason for meeting, like “hey, wanna see this really nice graffiti I found the other day?” or “should we go out tonight and put up posters?”. But mostly they just talked anyway. More than once they ran from the police. Enjolras learned that Grantaire practised kickboxing, that he’d once smashed someone’s window, and that he hadn’t met his mother since he was five. He lived with his father and two older brothers, whom Enjolras had never met, and whom Grantaire never really talked about. It was a big contrast to Enjolras’ safe middle class life, not always in an obvious way, but constantly making itself reminded in the little things. Grantaire never went to visit his grandparents, Grantaire’s family was never having anyone over for dinner so he was always free on Saturday evenings, but sometimes he had to go home early because he was doing laundry on Sunday. Enjolras tried inviting him over once, but Grantaire had said it would be easier to just meet in town, like they always did.

They started meeting approximately twice a week outside of meetings, and Enjolras always looked forward to it. Whenever they decided to meet after school, the rest of the day would feel so much lighter. Enjolras had never felt this connected to someone before, he thought, outside of his family, but that was a different thing. He admired Grantaire, having those premises and still being so full of ambition and will. He sometimes wondered how they had connected so well, when they had such different backgrounds. He told Grantaire about this once, and Grantaire had just said “Well, I think it’s because your so open, you know? I think about the same things sometimes, and I’m so glad that you don’t judge me like most people do”. He’d smiled so fondly, so earnestly for a few seconds, looking Enjolras in the eyes. He swayed slightly, then looked away and started talking about something else, but Enjolras had never forgotten that look, how sweet and honest it was. That was how he tried to remember him.


	2. Chapter 2

Exams did however come up after a few weeks, and Enjolras had to get a refill, a lot sooner than he usually had to. He went to the usual place, and was surprised to see the young man from his last time there. Today he also wore black sneakers and black jeans, but the hoodie had been changed to a loose, long sleeved, dark blue shirt. The sleeves were rolled up to the elbows. It was pretty warm outside, but the young man was standing in the shadow. Even the two young boys from last time were there as well, getting critique on a drawing, it looked like. They were deep into it all three of them, and it took the young man a while to notice Enjolras. When he saw him, he said something to the boys that Enjolras was maybe one meter too far away to make out, and the boys nodded and ran away. Enjolras felt like making a joke about how the young man actually properly looked like an art critic, but decided that it was not appropriate. He involuntarily smiled a little when he made eye contact with the young man. 

“Already back?” The young man asked.

“Yeah, I. Exams begin next week. I’m actually way back from where I should be.” It felt easy to say, and pretty nice. He didn’t admit those kinds of things to people around him.

“Huh. And how much do you want?” 

“2 grams again” Enjolras said. He never bought more at a time. “Can I just, ask you..”

“Yeah?”

“No, never mind. I think it’s really sweet of you that you’re being nice to those boys, anyway.”

“You think it makes me a good person? Do you forget what you’re buying from me? They shouldn’t be hanging around here, but I’m their best company. It’s fucked up. And it’ll be 70 bucks” he   
added, casually. It felt like he was a guide, telling Enjolras about the misfortunes of those boys and the families they’d been born into, but it also felt like he was blaming him, indirectly, for   
having it so much better than them, for having had such a huge head start in life. 

“I’m not trying to, I just. They’ll remember you for what you’re doing for them, not what you do the rest of the time. Whatever, I shouldn’t try to lecture you on morals.” It went strangely quiet for a moment, the young man just looking at him.

“Er, yeah. 70 bucks.” He held out his hand while Enjolras was getting the money from his pocket. Enjolras noticed the scar on his hand again, as well as small paint stains. 

“What’s your name?” Enjolras asked, as he handed over the money. The young seemed to get a little defensive.

“What’s that to you?”

“Well, I told you what I study.. Haha no, sorry. This stuff was really good, I might wanna find you again.” There was a growing tension, then release. But the young man still looked a bit suspicious. 

“You can ask for R, that’s how everyone knows me. Can’t say if they’ll know where I am though.” Enjolras nodded.

“Also - I’m sorry for being so weird, but can I ask you how old you are?” 

“No, you don’t need to know that. I’m young enough not to die until next time you run out. Now fuck off.” The young man’s tone was short, but not unfriendly. More like a cool P.E. teacher. Enjolras made an upward nod and walked away.

A few nights later, Jehan and Enjolras had dinner together at his room. It was just spaghetti and tomato sauce, but Jehan could make anything taste better than it ought to. They’d discussed a campaign they were starting up in the ABC, and then started talking about old memories from the group. A lot of the older members had now moved on to actual parties, leaving the ABC to let it be what it was intended to – a group for young people. But they still kept contact, of course, and came by sometimes to help with the organization if the ABC was arranging something big. Both Jehan and Enjolras had found big inspiration in the older members, now they were the older ones themselves. After a while, the topic seemed finished. Enjolras ate the last scrapes from his plate, hesitated for a moment and then asked.

“Do you remember Grantaire?” Enjolras asked. Jehan looked at him with a frown, notably surprised by the question. He looked to the side.

“Yeah, of course I do. I know I was only there for like two months before he left, but yeah, of course I do. Why?”

“It’s just that I suddenly started thinking about him a few weeks ago. Then I let it go, but now it’s back again. I met this – it’s really weird, I know – but it’s a guy I bought meth from, he really reminded me of Grantaire for some reason. I met him a second time a few days ago, but he wouldn’t tell me his name. Of course, I guess. But it just can’t let it go, you know? What if it’s him?” 

Jehan looked at him talking with a pained face, then sat in silence for a while.

“Maybe-” Jehan looked at him “maybe you should just let it go, either way? Even if it would be him, what difference would it make?”

“I know, it’s just. It actually hurts. I know it was two years ago now, but it hurts when I think about him now. It just feels like there must be something I can do, still.” Enjolras looked down at his hands, blinking a few times.

“I’m sorry, Enjolras, but I really don’t think there is. I know you’re like that, but sometimes. Some things are gone. You could try to talk to this guy, if you need to, but I think it will just be really awkward? Grantaire could be anywhere in the world, and I don’t think – “ Enjolras looked up at Jehan, who was looking at him with sorrowful eyes “If he met you, and recognized you, I don’t think he would talk to you either way. I think he’d just leave, without explaining anything. That’s what I think if I’m being honest with you, and that’s what I think you want me to be. I’m sorry”. 

Enjolras felt a contraction in his stomach muscles, then his eyes filling with tears. 

“Shit. Sorry man, I-“ One of the tears left his eyes. “I don’t know what’s happening, I’ve been over this for a long time, but maybe not, I guess.”

“Memories can hurt sometimes even if it’s something you’re through with” Jehan said. “This dealer really must look like him, huh?” He smiled.

“Yeah,” Enjolras said with a small laugh. “it’s crazy. He had some paint stains on his hands as well, I think that was what got me. It was something I’d completely forgotten. But yeah, I guess you’re right. It’s just so hard to settle with. That some things can’t be changed.” 

“Yeah.” Jehan said. “I know. “

\--

They had liked hanging out outside, both of them. Even if they went somewhere indoors, they always took a long walk there, or sat outside for at least an hour afterwards. Grantaire got weed from his brothers, and him and Enjolras used to smoke together. It was easier to do outside, of course. They sat in a park or maybe on a roof top, if it was dark, wearing their jackets closed and enjoying the freedom of an open sky. Grantaire was always relaxed with him, but it was in a different way when he was high. He didn’t look away from Enjolras after a few seconds, he just kept on and started smiling. He looked very happy, but it was the weed, Enjolras assumed. Enjolras also felt very fond of Grantaire when he was high, and he gradually realized that it was probably not only the weed making him feel that way. They started hugging more, in a friendly way, whenever they saw each other or were saying good-bye. Sometimes Grantaire held on for an extra second. It made Enjolras stomach hurt. One night, in November, they sat in an almost empty park as it began to snow. It was only a few flakes, really, but it had been very cold. Both of them had been floating.

“Is it okay if I sit closer to you? Just to keep warm.” Enjolras had asked. Grantaire had looked at him, then nodded shortly.

“Yeah, sure.” Then they’d sat close to each other for a while. There’d been a small tension in the air, and Enjolras had felt his heart beating. 

“Maybe-“ he’d said after a while “maybe you could, I dunno, I’m still pretty cold..“ He’d leaned slightly against Grantaire’s side, and Grantaire had put his arm around his shoulders.

“Like this?”

“Yeah, thanks.“ Then they’d stayed like that for a while, watching occasional people walk by in the distance. When they got up to leave, snowflakes had landed on Grantaire’s head, on top of the curls, and were still frozen. Enjolras had stood opposite him, and brushed some of them of, wordlessly, smiling. Grantaire had then frozen completely, his face expressionless, and his eyes moving between Enjolras’. He’d lifted his right hand uncertainly, then taken a step back, using the hand to brush some snow of his shoulders, and then started walking slowly, Enjolras following. 

They hadn’t said much more to each other that evening. 

Friday, the same week, they’d been at the same party. Enjolras had been a little drunk, and Grantaire had been very drunk. He’d been very sweet to a girl Enjolras didn’t know for the whole evening, and Enjolras had felt so stupid. As the party drew close to its end, Grantaire had asked Enjolras if maybe he could go with him for a while, because he was worried he wouldn’t find his way in the neighbourhood they were in. Grantaire had had to lean on Enjolras as they were going. 

“I’m sorry about the other night.” Grantaire had said. “I just couldn’t read you signals. I thought something, but then I realized how stupid that was. So don’t think less of me, please. I really want us to be friends.” 

“What do you mean?” Enjolras had asked while slowing down.

“Sometimes I think that maybe you want something else-“ Enjolras had stiffened, and Grantaire had apparently noticed, although drunk. “No man, I know you don’t, sorry. I just don’t know why I keep thinking like this, I know I’m disgusting. I just-, I just think you’re so sweet, you’re so nice to hang out with, and when I look at you I feel all warm-“ Grantaire had started shaking, and they’d had to stop because he was loosing his balance. Enjolras had hugged him, but Grantaire had just stood there, still shaking. “I can’t be like this, I can’t..” His voice had been thick, and he’d started crying softly into Enjolras shoulder. “It would be bad enough otherwise, but I don’t want to loose you. You’re the best person I know.” He’d never seen Grantaire crying before, never even being close to tears. Now he’d stood there, unable to stop, repeating “I can’t be like this, I can’t be like this..” in a whisper. 

“But Grantaire? Grantaire? What if I like you back?” Enjolras had whispered into his hair.

“But you don’t. It’s pointless.” 

“Do you think I would be asking you that then?” Enjolras had been in shock, over Grantaire telling him that he liked him, but also over the way he seemed to be feeling about it. Grantaire had continued crying, shaking his head at Enjolras’ words. “Grantaire? Do you get it? It means I like you back.”

“No, not like that. Like – I want you. I’m crazy about you. I – no, never mind. I’ll fix this, I’ll get over it.” Grantaire had stopped crying, and managed to straighten himself up, looking into Enjolras’ eyes, tiredly. Enjolras had released one hand from hugging Grantaire and put it on the back of Grantaire’s head, digging into the hair. Grantaire had flinched. “Don’t do that.” Grantaire’d said with aspiring panic. “Don’t mess with me like this, I can’t handle it-” He’d made an effortless try to get away from Enjolras’ half-hug.

“You stupid fuck, I’m trying to make you understand that I feel the same way about you, that I’m crazy about you too. Why don’t you get it?” Enjolras hadn’t been angry, rather desperate. “I want to be with you, so much, but I would never have dared telling you..” Grantaire had just stared at him, for many long seconds. Then slowly leaned forward, slowly like he was still doubting it, and then they’d kissed. 

After that, they’d been almost inseparable. They’d hung out as often as they could, doing the same things that they’d done before, but now with the addition of everything feeling perfect. In the beginning, Grantaire had been very uncomfortable with being romantic in public. Not in the same way that Enjolras had been (just generally a bit unsure about how to be in a relationship), but in a way that’d shown that he was afraid. He always thought that someone would see him and tell his family, whom, it got clear for Enjolras, definitely wouldn’t just be happy that he’d found someone he liked. Grantaire had however gradually managed to let go of the paranoia, feeling a bit more relieved with every person just telling them something in the line of “It’s so nice that you guys finally got together”, and not specifically commenting on the fact that they were two guys. 

Grantaire even met Enjolras parents, coming over for dinner a Thursday evening, so it wouldn’t feel to formal. It’d been awkward at first, but then Grantaire had bloomed out into his full personality – funny stories, beliefs and opinions, and they’d all stayed up talking until almost midnight. After that dinner, Grantaire also stayed the night at Enjolras’ sometimes. Grantaire had also started changing energy-wise – he still had as much energy as before, if not more, but he managed to focus it better on things he liked, and he started talking about plans for his future, not just the future of society, like they did in the ABC. He was like a ray of sunshine, Enjolras sometimes thought, like when Grantaire smiled at him through the bus window before he got off to violently hug him, or when he squeezed his shoulder one last time before he got on the bus again, saying “see you” and smiling at the thought of the statement. Or when he pointed at a big wall, somewhere public and said “I’ll cover that one one day”. And when he got so exited about something in a meeting that he suddenly stood up and half-shouted “YES” before looking around, breaking into laughter together with everyone else, and then sitting down on his chair again. Or when he used to… 

Enjolras cried quietly before finally managing to go to sleep.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's been brought to my attention that this chapter is in fact the same as the second half of chapter 2, but I'm worried that something will mess up if I just erase it. So I'll leave it for now. But be warned! You don't have to read this again...
> 
> There's a lot of flashbacks...

A few nights later, Jehan and Enjolras had dinner together at his room. It was just spaghetti and tomato sauce, but Jehan could make anything taste better than it ought to. They’d discussed a campaign they were starting up in the ABC, and then started talking about old memories from the group. A lot of the older members had now moved on to actual parties, leaving the ABC to let it be what it was intended to – a group for young people. But they still kept contact, of course, and came by sometimes to help with the organization if the ABC was arranging something big. Both Jehan and Enjolras had found big inspiration in the older members, now they were the older ones themselves. After a while, the topic seemed finished. Enjolras ate the last scrapes from his plate, hesitated for a moment and then asked.

“Do you remember Grantaire?” Enjolras asked. Jehan looked at him with a frown, notably surprised by the question. He looked to the side.

“Yeah, of course I do. I know I was only there for like two months before he left, but yeah, of course I do. Why?”

“It’s just that I suddenly started thinking about him a few weeks ago. Then I let it go, but now it’s back again. I met this – it’s really weird, I know – but it’s a guy I bought meth from, he really reminded me of Grantaire for some reason. I met him a second time a few days ago, but he wouldn’t tell me his name. Of course, I guess. But it just can’t let it go, you know? What if it’s him?” Jehan looked at him talking with a pained face, then sat in silence for a while.

“Maybe-” Jehan looked at him “maybe you should just let it go, either way? Even if it would be him, what difference would it make?”

“I know, it’s just. It actually hurts. I know it was two years ago now, but it hurts when I think about him now. It just feels like there must be something I can do, still.” Enjolras looked down at his hands, blinking a few times.

“I’m sorry, Enjolras, but I really don’t think there is. I know you’re like that, but sometimes. Some things are gone. You could try to talk to this guy, if you need to, but I think it will just be really awkward? Grantaire could be anywhere in the world, and I don’t think – “ Enjolras looked up at Jehan, who was looking at him with sorrowful eyes “If he met you, and recognized you, I don’t think he would talk to you either way. I think he’d just leave, without explaining anything. That’s what I think if I’m being honest with you, and that’s what I think you want me to be. I’m sorry”. Enjolras felt a contraction in his stomach muscles, then his eyes filling with tears. 

“Shit. Sorry man, I-“ One of the tears left his eyes. “I don’t know what’s happening, I’ve been over this for a long time, but maybe not, I guess.”

“Memories can hurt sometimes even if it’s something you’re though with” Jehan said. “This dealer really must look like him, huh?” He smiled.

“Yeah,” Enjolras said with a small laugh. “it’s crazy. He had some paint stains on his hands as well, I think that was what got me. It was something I’d completely forgotten. But yeah, I guess you’re right. It’s just so hard to settle with. That some things can’t be changed.” 

“Yeah.” Jehan said. “I know. “

 

They had liked hanging out outside, both of them. Even if they went somewhere indoors, they always took a long walk there, or sat outside for at least an hour afterwards. Grantaire got weed from his brothers, and him and Enjolras used to smoke together. It was easier to do outside, of course. They sat in a park or maybe on a roof top, if it was dark, wearing their jackets closed and enjoying the freedom of an open sky. Grantaire was always relaxed with him, but it was in a different way when he was high. He didn’t look away from Enjolras after a few seconds, he just kept on and started smiling. He looked very happy, but it was the weed, Enjolras assumed. Enjolras also felt very fond of Grantaire when he was high, and he gradually realized that it was probably not only the weed making him feel that way. They started hugging more, in a friendly way, whenever they saw each other or were saying good-bye. Sometimes Grantaire held on for an extra second. It made Enjolras stomach hurt. One night, in November, they sat in an almost empty park as it began to snow. It was only a few flakes, really, but it had been very cold. Both of them had been floating.

“Is it okay if I sit closer to you? Just to keep warm.” Enjolras had asked. Grantaire had looked at him, then nodded shortly.

“Yeah, sure.” Then they’d sat close to each other for a while. There’d been a small tension in the air, and Enjolras had felt his heart beating. 

“Maybe-“ he’d said after a while “maybe you could, I dunno, I’m still pretty cold..“ He’d leaned slightly against Grantaire’s side, and Grantaire had put his arm around his shoulders.  
“Like this?”

“Yeah, thanks.“ Then they’d stayed like that for a while, watching occasional people walk by in the distance. When they got up to leave, snowflakes had landed on Grantaire’s head, on top of the curls, and were still frozen. Enjolras had stood opposite him, and brushed some of them of, wordlessly, smiling. Grantaire had then frozen completely, his face expressionless, and his eyes moving between Enjolras’. He’d lifted his right hand uncertainly, then taken a step back, using the hand to brush some snow of his shoulders, and then started walking slowly, Enjolras following. They hadn’t said much more to each other that evening. 

Friday, the same week, they’d been at the same party. Enjolras had been a little drunk, and Grantaire had been very drunk. He’d been very sweet to a girl Enjolras didn’t know for the whole evening, and Enjolras had felt so stupid. As the party drew close to its end, Grantaire had asked Enjolras if maybe he could go with him for a while, because he was worried he wouldn’t find his way in the neighbourhood they were in. Grantaire had had to lean on Enjolras as they were going. 

“I’m sorry about the other night.” Grantaire had said. “I just couldn’t read you signals. I thought something, but then I realized how stupid that was. So don’t think less of me, please. I really want us to be friends.” 

“What do you mean?” Enjolras had asked while slowing down.

“Sometimes I think that maybe you want something else-“ Enjolras had stiffened, and Grantaire had apparently noticed, although drunk. “No man, I know you don’t, sorry. I just don’t know why I keep thinking like this, I know I’m disgusting. I just-, I just think you’re so sweet, you’re so nice to hang out with, and when I look at you I feel all warm-“ Grantaire had started shaking, and they’d had to stop because he was loosing his balance. Enjolras had hugged him, but Grantaire had just stood there, still shaking. “I can’t be like this, I can’t..” His voice had been thick, and he’d started crying softly into Enjolras shoulder. “It would be bad enough otherwise, but I don’t want to loose you. You’re the best person I know.” He’d never seen Grantaire crying before, never even being close to tears. Now he’d stood there, unable to stop, repeating “I can’t be like this, I can’t be like this..” in a whisper. 

“But Grantaire? Grantaire? What if I like you back?” Enjolras had whispered into his hair.

“But you don’t. It’s pointless.” 

“Do you think I would be asking you that then?” Enjolras had been in shock, over Grantaire telling him that he liked him, but also over the way he seemed to be feeling about it. Grantaire had continued crying, shaking his head at Enjolras’ words. “Grantaire? Do you get it? It means I like you back.”

“No, not like that. Like – I want you. I’m crazy about you. I – no, never mind. I’ll fix this, I’ll get over it.” Grantaire had stopped crying, and managed to straighten himself up, looking into Enjolras’ eyes, tiredly. Enjolras had released one hand from hugging Grantaire and put it on the back of Grantaire’s head, digging into the hair. Grantaire had flinched. “Don’t do that.” Grantaire’d said with aspiring panic. “Don’t mess with me like this, I can’t handle it-” He’d made an effortless try to get away from Enjolras’ half-hug.

“You stupid fuck, I’m trying to make you understand that I feel the same way about you, that I’m crazy about you too. Why don’t you get it?” Enjolras hadn’t been angry, rather desperate. “I want to be with you, so much, but I would never have dared telling you..” Grantaire had just stared at him, for many long seconds. Then slowly leaned forward, slowly like he was still doubting it, and then they’d kissed. 

After that, they’d been almost inseparable. They’d hung out as often as they could, doing the same things that they’d done before, but now with the addition of everything feeling perfect. In the beginning, Grantaire had been very uncomfortable with being romantic in public. Not in the same way that Enjolras had been (just generally a bit unsure about how to be in a relationship), but in a way that’d shown that he was afraid. He always thought that someone would see him and tell his family, whom, it got clear for Enjolras, definitely wouldn’t just be happy that he’d found someone he liked. Grantaire had however gradually managed to let go of the paranoia, feeling a bit more relieved with every person just telling them something in the line of “It’s so nice that you guys finally got together”, and not specifically commenting on the fact that they were two guys. 

Grantaire even met Enjolras parents, coming over for dinner a Thursday evening, so it wouldn’t feel to formal. It’d been awkward at first, but then Grantaire had bloomed out into his full personality – funny stories, beliefs and opinions, and they’d all stayed up talking until almost midnight. After that dinner, Grantaire also stayed the night at Enjolras’ sometimes. Grantaire had also started changing energy-wise – he still had as much energy as before, if not more, but he managed to focus it better on things he liked, and he started talking about plans for his future, not just the future of society, like they did in the ABC. He was like a ray of sunshine, Enjolras sometimes thought, like when Grantaire smiled at him through the bus window before he got off to violently hug him, or when he squeezed his shoulder one last time before he got on the bus again, saying “see you” and smiling at the thought of the statement. Or when he pointed at a big wall, somewhere public and said “I’ll cover that one one day”. And when he got so exited about something in a meeting that he suddenly stood up and half-shouted “YES” before looking around, breaking into laughter together with everyone else, and then sitting down on his chair again. Or when he used to… Enjolras cried quietly before finally managing to go to sleep.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is not the end!

The next weekend, he went to the backyard again. The young man, R, was actually there again, sitting on a once white plastic garden chair now turned grey-ish by time and weather. He had a notebook and was scribbling something in it with a black marker as Enjolras walked up to him. R looked surprised to see him.

“Already here again?” He said, not friendly but neither unfriendly - it seemed to be his usual way. 

“Yes, but not because of-“ Enjolras was already beginning to have second thoughts about this. He took a deep breath, held it for a moment and then quietly let it out. “This might be me mistaking myself, but if not, I want to talk to you.” The other man continued looking at him, completely expressionless.

“You’re mistaking yourself.” R said shortly. “I don’t owe you money; I don’t owe you favors; I don’t owe your friends money or favors; I owe nothing to no one. “

“No, sorry. I didn’t mean it like that, but I was apparently mistaking myself then. I thought I maybe knew you” Enjolras pronounced the last sentence as a question, like there might still be a chance that R had just misunderstood him. The other man fixed him with his gaze. He now looked angry.

“Like I said: I owe you. Fucking. Nothing.” He almost spit out the words. After them followed a long silence. Enjolras looked at him, but his expression only showed anger without giving anything further away. 

“You owe me a conversation.” Enjolras said at last. 

“I owe you fucking nothing and you’re gonna regret pushing me real soon” Grantaire bit out, while putting his notebook on the ground next to him. “Or won’t you take my word for it?” He stood up, facing Enjolras. 

“There’s no fucking need for you to act like that” Enjolras said in a low voice, while trying to keep his calm.

“You don’t tell me anything, okay?”

“Obviously I don’t know shit about you now, but I used to know you pretty fucking well and no, I don’t believe that you’d have changed like this.”

“Then that’s your problem, cause I will punch you if you don’t walk away now.“ They stared at each other, and Enjolras felt something like a thundercloud inside of him. He didn’t know if he was breathing, it felt like time stood still. Then Grantaire took half a step back, showing that he indeed was serious, and was about to hit Enjolras in the face. But before he could, Enjolras punched him, with his hand curled into a fist, hitting straight across the nose. The shock made Grantaire stumble backwards, into the chair he’d recently sat on, then further into the wall behind it. He didn’t fall to the ground, but neither would he be standing up without the wall behind him. Enjolras wasn’t controlling his actions, his words, as he spat on the ground and then said

“Don’t you ever threaten me like that” before turning and walking away. Everyone in the yard was looking at him, but no one dared approach him. He must’ve seemed a lot tougher than he really was, the way he had punched Grantaire out of the blue. And it seemed that if you punched Grantaire around here, you instantly gained the respect of people not wanting to be punched themselves. By the time Enjolras got to the bus stop, his hands were shaking. He suddenly realized that he hadn’t looked behind himself since he walked out of the yard, and he now did with a jerk. No one there. But the fact that someone could have followed him, probably without him even noticing, made his hands shake even more. On the bus, he managed to text Jehan “Are you home and can we talk?”. When Jehan replied “Yes, what’s the matter?” the shaking increased, and Enjolras felt like it was winter in his body.

 

Enjolras went straight to Jehan’s room, without going to his own to drop off his things, which he usually did. Jehan was sitting by the window, an open textbook next to him and a pile of papers on his lap, a yellow marker in his hand and a pink one behind his ear. Many more markers were spread across his desk.

“What’s up?” Jehan asked. Enjolras was unable to speak. He slumped down on Jehan bed, and stared at his hands.

“I met Grantaire” Enjolras said, and drew a shuddering breath. “I met him, I tried talking to him and then I punched him. Across the nose. I think I maybe broke it.” He looked up at Jehan with surprise on his face.

“Well… I guess you’re even at least then.” It wasn’t intended as a joke, the way Jehan said it. Enjolras made a small laughter anyway.

“Yeah, I guess.” He said. “I just. I can’t fucking believe it’s actually him.”

“And you’re certain? Or you were, before you punched him? After that, anyone might be pissed with you.”

“No, I am, I really am. I asked him two times if I maybe knew him, and he got hostile the second time. The things he said afterwards, it could only be him. But I should’ve been better prepared. I didn’t know what I wanted from talking to him, so I didn’t really know what to say. I guess I got angry as well. Then he threatened to punch me if I didn’t leave, then he was about to punch me, but then I punched him. And then I left.” It felt like re-telling someone else’s story. It wasn’t Enjolras who had done this – perhaps it was the memory of that evening. Jehan went over and sat down next to Enjolras, then put an arm around his shoulders. “I started crying the other night, when I thought about him.” Enjolras continued in a low voice. “I didn’t realise how much it still hurt. Now it feels like I should try talking to him again, but no way he’ll be in the same backyard anymore. “

“You know I’ll advise you from trying to find him, but I think it doesn’t matter what I say. And I don’t know – maybe you should actually try to find him. But if you do, please be careful. I can come with you, if you like.”

“Thanks, but it wouldn’t work. But thank you.” It had to be only Enjolras. “But do you think I could have broken his nose like that?”

“In what direction did you hit it?” Jehan asked. Enjolras showed with his hand. “Maybe. But it might just hurt really badly. Well, that it would either way, but it’s definitely not certain that you broke it. Either way, I think he can handle it. He used to do kickboxing, right? So it wouldn’t be the first time.”

“Yeah, he did. He nose was a bit crooked already when I first met him, I think. I probably just didn’t think about it since it was always like that.” He smiled a bit. “But I need to figure out a way to contact him, but preferably. Not so aggressive, I guess.”

“Maybe leave a message for him, do you think that could work?”

“Actually, yeah. I’ll try doing that, in some way. “ Enjolras frowned. “This really is messing up my head. But I think I need to do this. Thank you, Jehan.” Jehan just smiled and nodded.

 

Back at his room, Enjolras lay down on his bed to think. He knew it would hurt to think back, but I felt like he needed to do it. Maybe to understand what went wrong.

Things had been so good all the way through winter. They’d started talking about next year, what they would do when they were finally done with high school. Enjolras was applying for law studies, and Grantaire had already applied for an art school, and was going to send his portfolio to two more schools as their last date for application drew closer. One of them was in the bigger city close by, and probably the one he had most hopes about. He talked about it at least once every week. But with springtime, something changed in Grantaire’s mood. 

It begun with him being very tired, and reluctant to meet during weekends. After a while, he also started skipping some ABC meetings. He was too tired, he said. Too much stress, without specifying. Enjolras didn’t want to push him about it, but could also tell that it was getting worse. “There’s some stuff with my family” Grantaire just said when Enjolras finally asked what was going on. “It’s a bit stressful at the moment” he’d said. One Tuesday when the met, Grantaire’s left cheek had a scratch on it. He said he’d gone to kickboxing in the weekend to get some energy out, and Enjolras didn’t know how to question it in a good way. When Grantaire showed up with a black eye the next week, Enjolras did question it though, but it turned out the wrong way, and Grantaire refused to say anything. After that, Enjolras never questioned him more than once, afraid that it would only backfire. 

But things kept on getting worse, and it had been so painful to witness it happening. They started spending less time together; Grantaire usually said that he was going to meet some friends, and maybe he also did, but when Enjolras texted him to ask how things were going, it was evident that Grantaire’s main focus with the evening was to smoke. The replies were always short. “Nice” they usually said. Or “Don’t worry”. In the weekends, the replies could be in the lines of “Who are you why do you have my number” or things that didn’t at all make sense. One time, when they’d hung out a Wednesday evening after a meeting, and things had been like they used to be, Enjolras asked Grantaire about it. Directly. “Why have you started taking all these drugs?” he’d asked. Maybe it’d sounded aggressive. Grantaire’s response had been defensive, bordering aggressive. “I want to, that’s all. I have at lot of stress at the moment.” Then he’d sounded warmer, almost regretful. “I don’t want you to worry, though. You don’t have to text me in the weekends to get those replies, I promise I’ll be fine.” Enjolras had felt reassured. Completely fooled, he would realise a while later. 

Grantaire continued being more and more absent, and Enjolras continued being unable to help him. He talked a lot to the older members in the ABC, and especially the one who had gotten Grantaire to come there in the first place. They also tried talking to him, but nothing seemed to break through his rising barriers. He just shrugged it off, usually. A few times he got really angry, shouted to their faces that it was none of their business. It affected their relation, as well. Enjolras started feeling more and more like a worried teacher, constantly consumed with trying to figure out what was the matter with Grantaire. He could never really enjoy it when he met him, always worrying that he would explode about something. And Grantaire didn’t want to kiss him anymore. Or do anything intimate, really. If Enjolras tried to hold his hand, he would wriggle out of it. 

A warm Sunday in April, the ABC had participated in a demonstration against racism. It was held because of recent provocations from skinheads in their city. Grantaire hadn’t been there, but then he also hadn’t been at the last three meetings. The violent group that he had used to be in had however also been there, but Enjolras hadn’t given it much thought. The demonstration had gone rather peacefully, but when the demonstration was finished and everyone gathered up to listen to the speeches, a group of skinheads had appeared. They’d just stood there, quiet but threatening, not too close but neither far away. Enjolras had been a bit worried, although he knew that nothing would probably happen.

But suddenly, a guy in a black hoodie had broken out from Grantaire’s ex-group, and launched at one of the skinheads. He shouted something at them, sounding so angry, and then he punched one of them in the face. The skinhead wasn’t late to punch back, but after a few strikes each, their respective groups pulled them away from each other. That was when the hood fell off, and Enjolras saw that the guy in the black hoodie, the guy who had just gotten into a fight with a skinhead, was in fact Grantaire. Without thinking, Enjolras had run over to him. “What the fuck were you thinking?” he’d shouted straight to Grantaire’s face. Grantaire had just looked at him with a twisted smiled, still leaning on one of his friends to stand up. “Do you realise what could’ve happened?” Enjolras had continued, in a slightly lower tone. “Like you care” Grantaire’d said with the same smile. “You fucking know I do, but I don’t understand how you can be so reckless.” Enjolras had said. “No, you don’t, do you? You don’t understand a single thing, I’ll tell you. Just go.” Grantaire had sounded angry all the way through, and Enjolras had left. He met Grantaire once in a while after that, in a few ABC meetings where Grantaire showed up briefly, or in some other place they both accidentally went to. But they spoke as little as possible. 

As graduation drew closer for Enjolras, some of the older members in the ABC had gotten accepted for studying abroad the next year. It was decided that the last ABC meeting of the term would also be a small goodbye party for the ones going abroad, since it was the last time it would be certain that all of the group would be together. Grantaire was also invited, since they though it might still mean something to him as well. The meeting had been lovely, they’d had cake and coffee, listened to music and talked about the next year. 

Grantaire had eventually shown up, almost when they were about to pack up. He’d looked so small when he went through the door, almost insecure. Hadn’t shouted hello to everyone as he entered, like he used to half a year ago. He just walked over to the ones leaving next year, one by one, hugged them and said a brief goodbye. They’d tried to make him stay for a bit, asked him how things were going, but he’d just shaken his head and gone on to the next one. When he’d said goodbye to everyone, he’d walked over to Enjolras, whom had been completely stunned by his behaviour. “Goodbye” Grantaire’d said. “I don’t think we’ll see each other.” “That’s it? That really it?” Enjolras had stared at him, unknowing of how to react. “You’re leaving everything with this?” “It’s best like this.” Grantaire had looked so small. “Best for you, maybe. We’ve been so worried for you, and you’re just leaving us with this?” “Look, I wish I could tell you, but I just. I can’t. Not now.” Grantaire had been apologetic, no rage at all. Maybe that had made it so easy for Enjolras. “Then maybe once during the past few months?! I have been so fucking worried about you and it’s like you don’t care at all, just going about with your drugs and parties and shit.” That had stirred something in Grantaire. “You think you know so much, huh? You think I’m just another fuck-up? You’ve lived such a good life that you would never even consider that some people don’t get the same possibilities.” Enjolras had frozen completely for a moment. “I think about it all the time. But why did you start doing all this shit instead of talking to us?” “Cause it’s not that easy! You don’t get shit, this is exactly what I mean.” Grantaire had dropped his bag on the floor and positioned himself steadily in front of Enjolras. “How were I supposed to get shit when all you did was get high and stop talking to me? Don’t you realize you’ll end up exactly like your brothers this way, but maybe that’s what you want? Maybe your happy with that shit?” Enjolras had shouted at him, trying to provoke a reaction from Grantaire by taking it to the extreme, he had realized afterwards. Everyone had been looking at them. But it had backfired. At the mentioned of his brothers, there’d been a flinch In Grantaire’s face. “Yeah, maybe that’s what I’ll do, actually? They don’t go around trying to save the world by painting banners, they know that things don’t actually change. You know what they’d do to someone like you?” There’d been something very special in Grantaire’s tone at “someone like you” and Enjolras had known exactly what it meant. Suddenly it felt like he was starting to realize something, about the situation, about Grantaire’s brothers. Enjolras dropped his guard and took a step closer to Grantaire, lifted his hand towards his face, and then-

Grantaire punched him in the face. It had been such an immense blow that Enjolras stumbled backwards, bumped into a chair and fell to the floor. “Fuck!” He distantly heard Grantaire say. Followed by, more clearly “Enjolras, sorry! Shit, sorry man..” Grantaire had run over to him, but for Enjolras, all was done. “Get the fuck out of here, right now” He’d spat at Grantaire. “Enjolras, I’m so fucking sorry..” “Right. Now. Get out. Get out!” His head had been throbbing and his face had been burning, and he’d never wanted to see Grantaire again. Grantaire must’ve realized, because he threw one last look at Enjolras, turned, picked up his bags and left. Enjolras lay on the floor in the complete silence of everyone watching him. Then life picked up again. He was driven to the emergency. His nose was broken and he’d had a slight trauma to his head when he fell, but otherwise he was okay. Everyone waited back at the ABC, they’d packed the party up when he came back, but they stayed there for another while, talking and trying to round the night of as a good memory. 

He never saw Grantaire again.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Present time only!

On Sunday, the day after, Enjolras went back to the backyard. Grantaire was not there, as expected. But the older men over by the sofas were there as usual. He started walking towards them, and as they realized they were the ones he was walking towards, they looked at him warily. 

“You’re not here for trouble, I hope.” One of them said. It wasn’t a question. 

“No, I’m not. I just have this note, that I wonder if you could give to R, if ever he dropped by.” Enjolras held out a small folded note, together with a 10 dollar bill. The man who had spoken gave him a scrutinizing look, and then nodded. 

“Alright.” He said. “But only this time. We’re not a message service.”

“No, of course.” Enjolras nodded. “Good.” The man nodded at him again. Enjolras left.  
The note he had left simply read “I want to talk to you, and I think it’d be good for the both of us. Contact me when you feel like it. My number is 070-8637293. I’ll wait.”

 

A week passed without anything from Grantaire. Then another week. But on Thursday, the third week after Enjolras had left the note, he received a simple message from an unknown number. The message simply read “Fuck you”. But it was a message, nonetheless, and Grantaire allowing him to have his number. Enjolras added the number as “R”, but didn’t reply. The night between Friday and Saturday, at 3.30 am, he received another message. It was “Fuck you” again. Enjolras still didn’t reply. But when he woke up Sunday morning, there were six new messages from Grantaire. They were

3.12 am “You think you mean something to me?” 

3.14 am “You think you’re so fucking special?” 

3.43 am “You’re too good to reply to me, now that you have my number?”

3.50 am “I loved you”

3.52 am “Fuck you”

3.53 am “fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you”  
Enjolras called Jehan.

 

“What the fuck do I reply to this?” Enjolras asked as he showed Jehan the messages. They were having coffee in Enjolras room, and it was raining outside. It was two in the afternoon, but the rain made it so dark it might as well have been evening already. 

“Oh.” Jehan said. “This is a lot. I didn’t think he would send you any more than those ‘fuck you’:s, and that you would have to write him eventually. Well, I didn’t even think he’d write you, to be honest. But that just shows that you know him far better than I do.” Jehan smiled. Enjolras shook his head.

“I didn’t think he would write me either. But I hoped so much that I made myself think I thought it would work. Now I don’t know what to do.”

“Reply, that’s for sure at least. But what to reply to this…” They sat in silence for a little while. “What do you feel like saying?”

“I feel like asking him to meet me, but I don’t think that’s wise.”

“It might as well be? You were right once. I think you should do it.”

“Okay.” Enjolras took a deep breath, and then opened his phone. He went to the conversation with Grantaire. “Could we meet? I can’t do this over texts.” He wrote, and closed his phone. And so the waiting begun again. 

 

Enjolras had a memory that he revisited many times during the months that Grantaire got worse. It was in the beginning of Grantaire’s downwards spiral, but on a good night. They had been out putting up posters, and then climbed up on a roof top they knew. It was a bit outside the city centre, but you had a really nice view. It had been an unusually warm night for that time of the year. Grantaire had had his arm around Enjolras’ shoulders.

“You know,” Grantaire had said. “I really want to get out of this city. Like really get out. Get far away and never look back. Not at the streets, at my school, at my brothers – anything. Start a new life. A better one.”

“So you want to leave everything?”

“Yes.” Grantaire replied instantly.

“Me, as well?” Enjolras wasn’t sure if he was asking, or making a joke.

“No, you stupid..!” Grantaire had laughed in his warmest tone. “I’ll never leave you. But you should come with me. Or else it’ll be problematic.”

“Okay. I’ll come with you. But it has to be to a city with a university. At least for a few years.”

“Okay, that’s the deal. Any city with a university but this one, that’s where we’ll go. What do you think of the U.S?” Grantaire had been grinning widely.

“Haha, shit man, I don’t know, that’s far. But yeah, why not?” Enjolras had smiled back.

“I’ll look into it, you can be certain of it. And then we’ll find a flat, or maybe a room in a collective, like Bahorel’s. And we’ll paint the walls with stencils. And, shit, we could grow our own weed in the closet, haha! That’s what you do in collectives, right?” They had both laughed. 

“And we can eat all vegan food, and everyone else will probably be at least vegetarians. And we’ll have a shared bed, and we’ll wake up together each morning.” Enjolras had smiled fondly. It had felt like everything would turn out good. He had already forgotten about Grantaire’s drunk voice on the phone last weekend. “We’ll do this, right?” Enjolras’d suddenly felt very serious when he said it.

“We will.” Grantaire’d promised.

 

Grantaire replied Sunday night. 

“What is it you can’t do over texts?” Grantaire wrote.

“Talk to you.” Enjolras replied.

“About what?”

“About everything. I want to know what you’re up to, and I would like to know what happened.”

“What’s there to know?”

“Look, you wrote to me, so there must at least be something you want to get out of this.”

“I want to know why you’re messing up my life.”

“But I’ve only just met you? What do you mean?”

After that, no reply.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updates will come! But it might take a little while..


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Unexpected things happen!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a short one, but the next one will be longer, and have more content. Splitting it like this cause otherwise there would be one super long chapter...

Enjolras tried telling himself that he wasn’t expecting a reply. Why should he? Grantaire was probably just curious about why Enjolras contacted him, but when he realized it was just to talk about what had been he wasn’t impressed. If he’d just written something else, then maybe Grantaire would still be interested in meeting. Why didn’t he lie just a little bit, to hook him on it? He wouldn’t write another message, not until Grantaire replied. Which he wouldn’t. 

Monday and Tuesday passed quickly. He convinced himself that he had played the wrong cards, and there was nothing to be done about it. End of story.

On Wednesday, he got mad at himself for not handling it better, and a flower pot in the common kitchen fell victim to his anger. It felt even worse afterwards, picking up the shards and still fresh flowers. He put them in a vase.

Thursday, he was still upset, but at least not as much. The flowers in the vase reminded him to take it easy. But then came Friday.

The amis were having a party at Muschietta, Joly and Bossuet’s. Everyone was a bit drunk, and there was a kind of sentimental mood in the air. Summer would soon be upon them, and after that, changes of location and occupation. Enjolras was reminded of that farewell party where Grantaire’d punched him. The last time he saw Grantaire. He’d thought. 

He tried to enjoy the party, but was going through his conversations with Grantaire again and again in his head. Had Grantaire really been in town all this time? It wasn’t possible, surely they would’ve met in that case. But it was a segregated city; Enjolras never went to the parts of town where he bought unless he was buying. 

“Has anything new happened?” Jehan snapped him out of his thoughts.

“With what?”

“With Grantaire.” Jehan said in a low voice. Everyone else was busy with their own conversations, and no one heard. 

“No, not really.” Enjolras let out a sigh. “He replied, but it was some strange stuff about fucking up his life and I don’t know what.”

“Three years ago?”

“No, I don’t think so. He wrote that he wanted to know why I was fucking up his life. I haven’t done anything.”

“Except, you know, being really persistent in contacting him.” Jehan smiled. Something begun dawning on Enjolras.

“But do you think this is hard on him? Shit, I hadn’t even considered that. Things got so weird I started thinking I’d never understood him from the beginning, but maybe. Yeah, I guess this would affect him as well.”

“He has as much to be reminded of as you have, you know.” Enjolras instantly felt very stupid. Then he got an idea.

“Maybe I should just call him? Instead of this strange way of asking forgiveness.” His phone was in his pocket. 

“On a Friday night? Don’t you think he’s busy with work?”

“Yeah, you’re right. But maybe Sunday.” Then Enjolras sat quiet for a moment. By then it will be even harder, he thought. He was about to say something more when Courfeyrac came over to them. He looked very happy. He stopped for a moment, realizing that maybe he was interrupting something important, but then seemed to decide that it was probably not that important.

“Do you know what it’s time for?” He asked, smile still widening. 

“I guess we do.” Jehan smiled back.

“I think so too.” Courfeyrac said with a giggle. He leaned closer and whispered. “Karaoke.” After that, it was simply a matter of joining or going outside, because karaoke was always incredibly loud with the amis. Enjolras didn’t mind, though, it was also very nice.

 

So nice that he even forgot about Grantaire for the rest of the evening. The karaoke was done, and he was slumbering on a sofa when he was woken by his phone. The time read 00:51, and he was being called by a number he did not recognize. Uncertainly, he lifted the phone to his ear.

“Hello?” He said. 

“Enjolras?” Said a voice Enjolras didn’t quite recognize. There was a slight panic in it.

“Yes? Who is this?”

“It’s Grantaire.” Then it went quiet. Enjolras wasn’t sure whether he was supposed to say something in response, so he waited. There was the faint sound of a sob, held back. 

“What’s the matter?” Enjolras asked.

“I-“ Quiet again. “I’ve been mugged. They took my keys, phone, wallet, everything.” It almost sounded like Grantaire was crying. It felt unreal. Grantaire continued between sharp inhales. “I’m in a different town and don’t have anyone’s number, I was just able to call you cause I still had that note you left me. Please. I really need help.”

“Uh, oh. Yeah, sure, of course.” Was this happening? “I’m drunk, though, so I can’t drive. But I can ask someone else?”

“No, please, no one else. Just come by train, I can wait.” 

“It’s gonna take some time, though.” It didn’t feel like the time to come with interjections. 

“I can wait. I’ll just stay at the station, I’m in Den.” Grantaire sounded a bit calmer now.

“Okay, I. Yeah, good. Just call me again if anything changes, I guess? But expect it to take an hour at least.” Enjolras wouldn’t be going to sleep as soon as he had planned then, it appeared..

“I can wait.” Then silence. 

“Okay. I guess I’ll. See you there then?” 

“Thank you.” Then Grantaire hung up. 

“Who was it?” Combeferre asked with blinking eyes.

“It was- nothing special, I just need to pick up a friend.”

“You’re drunk.” Combeferre pointed out. “You can’t pick people up then.”

“No, I know. I’m just, meeting him at the station, to walk, that’s all. “ Was this a good lie? Why was he lying? He knew there were many reasons.

“Sounds like it’s gonna be a long night, then.” Combeferre said with a grin. Enjolras had a feeling it would be.


End file.
